I remember the first time I went over to a friend's house and felt the wrath of an angry parent that wanted to blame me for the wrong their own child had done. I remember it like yesterday, and honestly I'll probably never forget it. It hurt.
I went over to my friend's house for supper. I was fourteen. I arrived to hear screaming coming from inside before I even reached the door. I wearily crept up to knock, unsure if I should just leave. I wish I would have. My friend's mom answered the door, and if looks could kill, I would have been stone cold. And, she said to me, "You are no longer welcome here, ever again. You're a terrible influence on my daughter, and this family doesn't want you here!" and she slammed the door in my face. I saw my friend through the crack sitting there bawling her eyes out, obviously this wasn't her saying this, and I knew that. We got together at school the next day and continued our friendship in secret. She was my only friend at the time. My best friend. I swear no one knew me like she did, understood the pain I felt each day going to school, and being bullied like she did.
But, I never told her instead of calling my mom to come pick me back up that night, even though it was the middle of winter, that I chose to walk home instead, so I could cry in silence. I didn't want my mom to know what had just happened, didn't want her to feel the pain I had just felt. I never told her I laid in bed that night for hours wondering what I did so wrong that her mom didn't want me around anymore. We weren't the best kids. We really weren't. We drank, we smoked cigarettes and weed, we experimented with drugs. We helped each other sneak out, and stayed up till six in the morning high on pills. But, she was my best friend, and I was hers. We had each other's back like no one else would.
Fast forward a few months later, maybe even a year or two. I'm sitting in my new best friend's bedroom with her, when she randomly blurts out that her mom doesn't like me. I'm in shock for a few moments as I just stare at her. "Why?" I finally ask. She shrugs. Never tells me a good reason for it. Now that I know I slowly cut myself off from her. I don't want to put myself in the uncomfortable position of being in a household where I don't feel welcome.
Fast forward a few years later, I'm 21 now. And, I still have friends tell me their parents don't like me. I've never been able to grasp or fully understand why. Over the years they all came up with their petty excuses, I did drugs, I dropped out of high school, I didn't have a job, I had a bad boyfriend. Okay, sure, at first glance I might not seem like the best person to be around, and maybe if I had my own children I would think the same way. But, what happened to not judging a book by its cover? What happened to learning what's on the inside, before just up and deciding you don't like that person?
I love and cherish my friends as if they were family, and have always treated them as such. I've brought friends to weddings, Thanksgiving dinners, birthday parties, etc. But, I've never been on the receiving end of those things. And, it hurts. It puts a hole in my heart and a pit in my stomach, to think that a parent can just blindly dislike me, for whatever reason they come up with in their head. I talk to people about it, not like it helps anyway. You can't take away a memory of another parent screaming at you and calling you names. Making you wonder what's wrong with you in the first place. I am not a perfect human, nor have I ever claimed to be as such, but I was raised right, with a good head on my shoulders. I knew how to be respectful, be seen and not heard, and treat people right.
Parents want to blame their child's friends for the wrong they do in their lives, not realizing the damage they are doing behind closed doors. I had a good home life, but what if I hadn't? What if my friends' home was my only safe haven? I just have to say this one thing to parents all over the world who commit this crime; What were you doing when you were that age? Who were your friends? What kind of crowds did you surround yourself with? If it wasn't a perfect crowd, if you weren't a perfect child, maybe its time for a little self-evaluation. Or, maybe, just maybe, its time for you to realize your child isn't the perfect one being corrupted in the situation.